


symphony in a minor

by Anicaruscomplex



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 13:04:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8980927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anicaruscomplex/pseuds/Anicaruscomplex
Summary: A collection of one-shots and drabbles, because even though season one has finished I'm not quite ready to let it go."So he flirts and pouts and lets the edge of his shirt ride up to reveal the newly defined vee of his hips, desperately aware that he is running out of time."





	1. Bend and Snap

He bends over to retrieve the tracksuit top he’d _accidentally_ pushed off the side, fitting his hips snugly against the board and bending until his fingers touched the plastic matting on the other side, draping himself over it like a second skin. He can feel the pull of his tracksuit over his thighs, over his arse, and is well aware of the view he must be presenting from the other side. The fat he’d put on after spiralling down into depression and pity eating after that disastrous Grand Prix Final has well and truly melted off now, leaving him with strong, smooth lines and a body that is testament to his position as a world class athlete. He’ll never be as svelte as Yuri, or even Viktor himself, but the outline of abdominal muscles he can see underneath his training top has done a lot to improve his confidence. For the first time in his life, he actually feels sexy when he skates.

Straightening in one fluid movement, he glances demurely over his shoulder to see Viktor is watching him intently, faint blush staining that pale skin. Yuuri smiles and waves, exaggerating his grin, pretending he’d only just noticed that his coach was watching him.

He isn’t experienced. He knows it shows sometimes, finds it difficult to control his instinctive reaction to freeze when confronted with something unexpectedly sexual, but inexperience and complete innocence are two entirely different things. He’s had a number of close calls, of _what ifs_ and _maybe this time_ , but at the end of the evening he’s always been left alone with his hand and his fantasies. Maybe it’s his fault. He always finds himself pulling away right at the point of no return, scared to commit himself despite his willingness, and so he’s always ended up shooting himself metaphorically in the foot. Somehow he’s ended up at twenty four with only a handful of drunken kisses and dirty dances to show for it.

This time, he vows to himself, he’ll make sure it happens. Viktor flirts shamelessly with him, casual touches and innocent comments laced with suggestive undertones, but Yuuri doesn’t think the other man’s ever realised that he is intentionally flirting back, in his own little way. He knows he’s doing it again, pulling back when he could gather the confidence and make the first move, but he’s still a little spellbound at the effect all of these little actions are having on Viktor and doesn’t want to give up the pretense. A part of him is hoping that he’ll end up pushing Viktor into swapping suggestions for actions.

Another part, one he tries not to listen to, wonders why he thinks Viktor would be interested in him at all.

Jacket once again draped neatly against the side, he pushes off and raises his arms above his head, revelling in how happy he is just to skate. He meanders around the ice carelessly, tracing abstract patterns with his skates, building up speed until everything else around him is just a blur of colour. He twirls and jumps and stretches, echoes of past programmes he probably can’t even remember in their entirety anymore, enjoys the freedom of the warmup to do whatever he likes. Viktor, despite his laid back attitude, is a surprisingly demanding coach, and he’ll probably end up spending the majority of the practice session practicing the same move over and over until it’s burnt into his bones. Objectively, he can see the improvements he’s making, but it doesn’t make it any more enjoyable, or make him feel like any less of a failure when he fucks up again and again and again. Viktor never loses his smile, never stops encouraging him, but the teasing comments that will come later make Yuuri all too mindful that he is not immune to the frustration of it either.

Even if Viktor is happy to hold his hand as he stumbles through his routine, Yuuri isn’t. The honeymoon period of simply having his idol near him has worn off, and it isn’t enough anymore. What he wants more than anything is for Viktor to see him as an equal. Someone who could have been a rival if the prodigy hadn’t taken a year off to coach, well, him.

He wonders what will happen when this year is up. He’s on better form than last year; if he doesn’t qualify for the Grand Prix again, he doesn’t think he won’t be able to bring himself to continue. Even if he does and miracles happen, if he takes home the gold, he knows he cannot keep Viktor to himself for much longer. It doesn’t take a genius to notice how difficult Viktor is finding it being that one step removed, watching the others compete while staying off the ice himself. Early to a session a few weeks ago, Yuuri had even caught him composing a new routine. Viktor had laughed it off and told him he was just making sure he wasn’t rusty, was just running through an old programme from years back, but Yuuri would have sensed the lie even if he didn’t have all of Viktor’s old routines committed to memory. This year is a fantasy he would never trade for anything, but he knows it cannot last.

So he flirts and pouts and lets the edge of his shirt ride up to reveal the newly defined vee of his hips, desperately aware that he is running out of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've got any requests of things you'd like to see/ideas to explore, let me know and I'll try and incorporate something! As always, comments loved and adored.


	2. christmas eve

Yuuri leaps from the sofa when he hears Viktor unlocking the front door of their flat, awkwardly toying with the hem of his shirt as he stands between the door and their small living room.

“I know you don’t really celebrate Christmas,” he gets in first, words tumbling out almost too quickly to follow. “But I thought it would be nice, and I wanted to surprise you, and don’t you think it looks nice?”

Still stuck in the doorway, duffel bag at his feet and one shoe half off, Viktor just blinks at him in confused misunderstanding. Colouring, Yuri steps back and lets him finish taking his shoes off, waiting nervously in the other room.

Years in America have made him accustomed to Christmases far more elaborate than those he was used to in Japan, though he’d tried not to go too overboard in his excitement to create one for Viktor. The tree is a slim six foot fir – real, he’s always liked the smell – decorated with golden tinsel and red baubles, plain white lights winking from between the branches. Viktor’s colours, that red tracksuit and those ridiculous gold blades.

He’s decorated a little in the rest of the room too. He’s pinned holly and lights to the mantelpiece, the small collection of cards he’d received carefully presented above, and there’s a collection of wooden reindeer on the coffee table. After hours of debate and then further embarrassed, aborted attempts to remove it, he’s hung mistletoe above the door to the kitchen.

He hardly breathes as he waits those few painful moments for Viktor to follow him in, eyes glued to the Russian’s face as he takes in Yuuri’s attempts at decoration. He finally relaxes when he sees Viktor start to smile, that small, private one that he saves just for Yuuri, and almost immediately finds himself enveloped in a hug.

“Spasibo, Yuuri. It looks perfect.”

Yuuri presses his face into the taller skater’s shoulder, enjoying the moment, of Viktor finally being back and the chance to celebrate together. They’ve already got plans for Viktor’s birthday tomorrow, but Yuuri had wanted to create a more private Christmas eve for just the two of them. It’s the first year he’s had a lover to share it with.

He pushes away from the hug reluctantly, darting over to the tree to pick up one of the presents underneath it. There’s a fair number; most are silly things from Yuuri, in an attempt to make it look magical, but others are from friends or family. Pichit has sent them both an enormous pile, elaborately wrapped with enormous ribbons that put the others to shame.

The present he’s picked out is one from him, simply wrapped in gold paper with a stuck on bow. He holds it out in front of him shyly as he offers it to his fiancé. “Merry Christmas Viktor,” he murmurs, blinking back the tears that threaten as Viktor looks at him with such love and warmth that Yuuri thinks his heart might explode.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shameless fluff :D


End file.
